Read Online Death Trick by Roderic Jeffries - Free Book Online Page A

probably from the western end to judge by the accent with which she spoke Mallorquin. Had she been born forty years before, her life would have been a very different one. Forced to work in the fields from an early age, by now her looks would have disappeared; married to a man who probably offered her little or no overt affection; facing a future, as hard as the past, in which pleasure was a privilege restricted to the wealthy . . . Who but the severest of moralists could regret the change for her?
    ‘I’ll tell you one thing, you’re no chatterbox!’
    ‘I was thinking about the past, señorita.’
    ‘That’s a complete waste of time.’ She handed him a glass, went over to the second easy chair whose cover was a shocking pink, and sat. ‘I suppose you’re here because of Pablo?’
    ‘I believe you visited him quite often at his house, Casa Gran?’
    ‘And if I did?’
    ‘Then you can tell me about him.’
    ‘What about him?’
    ‘To begin with, what was he like?’
    ‘Like any other middle-aged man who imagines he’s Don Juan,’ she said, making it clear that she was not going to apologize to anyone, least of all to a middle-aged inspector, for the kind of life she led. She’d met Roig at an exhibition to which she’d gone because she knew the artist. She’d recognized his type on sight and so wasn’t in the least surprised when he’d made a point of talking to her. And she’d been sardonically amused to note how he’d preened himself, believing that his sophisticated air, hundred thousand peseta suit, and hand-made shoes, would bowl her over. Naturally, she’d played hard to get. She’d made him spend and spend on her and for a long time had offered absolutely nothing in return . . . She could not quite hide the fact that his mature charm had held an attraction for her.
    ‘Were you distressed to learn of his death?’
    ‘Of course. No more dinners at the Casino.’
    He ignored the comment. ‘How did you learn of his death?’
    ‘I read about it in the paper. Bit of a surprise, really. To think that suddenly he’d . . .’ Just for a moment, her air of hard sophistication was dropped.
    ‘You’d no idea what had happened until then?’
    ‘How could I have?’ Her concern was sharp. ‘Here, you’re not thinking I had anything to do with that?’
    ‘I’m here to find out.’
    ‘Then you find out bloody quickly. If you think I could ever have stuck a knife into him, you’re crazy . . . I mean, why the hell should I kill him?’
    ‘You might have had a very bitter argument.’
    ‘D’you think I murder people I argue with? . . . In any case, when we went to his place, it wasn’t to argue.’
    ‘Or you might have learned he’d found another friend?’
    ‘He wasn’t looking at anyone else while I was around, that was for sure.’
    ‘When did you last see him?’
    She thought back. ‘On the Friday.’
    ‘Have you any idea who might have killed him?’
    ‘No.’ She drained her glass, stood. ‘D’you want another?’
    He handed her his glass. ‘He never spoke about being threatened?’
    ‘That’s not the sort of talk he was interested in,’ she said, as she walked over to the sideboard.
    ‘It’s strange what does get said in pillow talk.’
    ‘Not when I’m sharing the pillow.’
    ‘I suppose you’ve met the maid at Casa Gran?’
    ‘Couldn’t very well miss that one.’ She walked back, handed him a glass, returned to her chair. ‘Every time I looked like getting too close so she might actually come into physical contact, she crossed herself.’
    ‘Did she ever talk to you about Roig?’
    ‘She didn’t talk to me about anyone or anything unless she absolutely had to.’
    ‘So I don’t suppose you’d know who he—how shall I put it?—entertained before?’
    ‘That’s right, I wouldn’t.’
    ‘Can you remember where you were on Monday evening, say between ten and midnight?’
    She answered immediately. ‘Here, watching a film on telly.’
    ‘On your